My Spirit Love (phan)

三十四 - 𝓑𝓮𝓪𝓽𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓔𝓷𝓮𝓻𝓰𝔂

It was the disturbance in his energy that woke Dan up from his month-long sleep. He'd been feeding off of Phil's energy for over a decade, and that didn't come without consequences, whether they are good or bad. It could be argued whether or not they had a spiritual connection before they met, but now with their energies basically being the same entity, they were undoubtedly connected.

Phil could move halfway across the world and Dan would slowly fade away over a week or two, and the energy he held in himself would disperse into his surroundings, if Phil wasn't close enough to absorb it again himself. They wouldn't be anywhere near each other, but he would still be able to feel Dan slowly draining away, until he could feel it in himself that he was with them no more.

If Phil had understood this before the night he overdosed, he might have had more faith that his spirit love would return. As he disturbed his boyfriend's resting body, it detached the anchors Daniel had to the physical world, therefore he lost himself between planes. He needed to take time, find his way back, let his energy reconnect to the surface and latch back onto the building that was his home. It could take a week or two, maybe a month, possibly up to half a year. He would have come back and it wouldn't have taken too long.

But, as Phil's body began to give up on him, the energy the two of them shared panicked, pulling Daniel back with his form panicking before he understood what the urgency was. And now he was knelt by his bed with his boyfriend helplessly curled in the bedsheets, breath slowly trickling its way out of his mouth and his eyelids occasionally fluttering.

Dan sucked in air through his own nostrils. He still didn't need to breathe, but his muscles performed the actions automatically as if they hadn't learnt he'd died. Just like his lungs, his eyes still knew how to cry. He wiped his cheek, holding his other palm above Phil's hair, letting his fingers dance over the strands as though he could comfort him this way, "Don't give up, Phil." he whispered, "Someone will come soon."

He wished for PJ to be there as he could run to the human boy, crying into his arms as he screamed for him to get help, but no matter how hard he screamed, Phil's family weren't going to know that their youngest was dying across the corridor.

Dan's body shook, his knees weak beneath his kneel but he refused to take his eyes even centimetres away from Phil's face in fear he'd miss something, whether that was his last breath or a sign of hope. He could barely hold his arms above his shoulders, his hands uncontrollably moving in jittery motions and his chest rolling with each sigh. He couldn't tell if the pain was worsened because he couldn't feel physical pain anymore, or whether or not it just hurt this much, "Come on, Phil," he chuckled, "You've got this." his voice cracked into another sob.

His eyes widened when the sunlight rolled in from the freshly drawn curtains and the sensations in his chest changed. It was as though someone held a heart in front of him, one that wasn't his own, but one that he could feel. It was like they were letting it bleed out, every pump it fought for causing it to disperse its life away as though it counted down to its own death, like the ticking of a clock. He then realised that heart was Phil's and the blood was nothing less than the last of the energy he contained, "Fuck this." he cursed, shaking his head and grasping his free hand to his ribs. The meekness of his voice and the way it was barely audible didn't allow the tones of frustration to pass with the swear. He was so helpless, so pathetic, and what was worse was that he knew it.

He focused on each pulse of fading energy as though it was the last. He waited for changes in the sensation signalling it could be the last beat. He listened to the drum of his own heart as it fell into rhythm with the dying black-haired boy's.

His thoughts went silent for a moment until he wondered if the energy he stored in himself could be passed back to the boy he stole it from. If he could drain a bit with each beat, the life that felt as though it was spilling out could be replaced, creating a cycle off loss and gain, much alike a garden water feature. He sucked a breath in, focusing on passing his life away from himself, from every tip of his fingers and skin on his chest. He realised it was working after it began to make him sick.

He gasped, joy riding the sound as he grinned at the sickly feeling. It felt awful, as though he was back in the well eighty years ago and suffocating under the dirt, but he couldn't have been happier. He rested his forehead on the mattress, letting his eyes fall away from Phil's as he worked on a rhythm where he lost his life to his boyfriend; his one and only love, and the only one to ever be.

The sun was long in the sky before he stood on his feet again, carrying his body out into the hall and back down the stairs, pulling his head side to side in hopes that he found someone who could help. Martyn sat at the TV, drumming the remote against his leg as he looked unsatisfied at the show that was on. The spirit glared at the screen, focusing on pulling the electricity from it, watching the screen dim before them both.

Martyn groaned, tossing the remote to the side and looking out into the front garden. If he believed that Dan still walked among them, he might have guessed it was him instantly. But he believed the spirit was well and truly dead, so the option didn't occur.

Dan let out a groan of frustration, falling onto his knees as he cried into the air, his chest rapidly rose and fell as he hyperventilated into silence. After a few moments Martyn stepped by him, walking into the hallway without a second thought. Dan rose to his feet, following the older brother stuttering, "Check on Phil! Go to Phil's room! He needs you-" and he didn't give up until the door to Martyn's room shut behind him, "There!" Dan screamed as he pointed at his bedroom door, "In there!" his face contorted as he tiresomely wailed again.

The click of the radio in Martyn's room sounded, followed by the out-dated and out-of-season mutters of Christmas songs, "It's bloody late January!" the older Lester boy complained, followed by a mild chuckle. Daniel knelt at his door, listening nonchalantly to the drones of the music, seemingly mocking his distress with the upbeat singing of Baby It's Cold Outside.

"It's cold outside." Dan nodded, agreeing with the music, "It's so, so cold outside." he laughed, lifting himself back into his bedroom where Phil laid motionlessly.

He stared at his black-haired boy whose hair was washed from colour and roots were combed through at the top. He sighed, letting himself fall beside his best friend, with his nose in the crook of his neck and their heads both sharing Dan's pillow. His arm cradled the lightly breathing figure as he continued to drain his energy back into him, taking care not to waste it too fast. Nobody came to their bedroom door. It would be a long night.